Snowdrops on Rosemary Lane

by Ellen Berry

  If she had been able to think straight, Lucy would have reminded herself that, as a bereaved daughter, she probably wasn’t easy to be around these days. Her mother wasn’t to know how important those tiny finds were to Sam; she hadn’t been there when he’d found that delicate skull lying on the path in the woods. Was it from a shrew, they’d wondered? Or a vole? Sam had wrapped it in tissue and slipped it carefully into his jacket pocket.

  How would she tell him it had been thrown away, and what did it matter if feathers weren’t especially hygienic when this little boy had lost his dad?

  Tears blurred Lucy’s vision now as she spotted a smooth white pebble next to the clippings pile. But was it a museum exhibit or just an ordinary pebble, and would Sam even be able to tell the difference? She spied a feather, too, and tried to figure out whether it had just been lying there, or was it one that Sam had picked up on a walk? There was no sign of the skull, though, or the tiny bird bones.

  ‘Hi!’ Carys’s voice cut through the air.

  Lucy straightened up quickly at the sight of her friend and the children – Marnie, Sam, and Carys’s children, Noah and Amber – who had wandered in through the gate.

  ‘Hi!’ She beamed as Bramble charged into the garden, ears flapping, and proceeded to tear around excitedly.

  ‘Hi, Grandma!’ Sam called out, and hurried towards her, closely followed by Marnie. It twisted Lucy’s heart to see how happy they were to see her. Carys greeted Anna – they had met several times before – and turned to Lucy.

  ‘They did so well at gymnastics,’ she said, ‘but the teacher said there’s going to be a lot of rehearsals before the show …’

  ‘What show?’ she asked distractedly.

  ‘Mum, I told you,’ Marnie groaned. ‘There’s a gymnastic display at the end of the holidays.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Lucy feigned recollection. ‘Yes, of course. Well, that’s great.’

  Catching her eye, Carys frowned. ‘Sorry we’re a bit late. They wanted to stop off for an ice cream.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice. Thanks so much for having them. We were thinking we’d like to do another sleepover soon?’

  ‘That’d be great.’ Carys’s gaze met Lucy’s and a look of concern crossed her face. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Er, yes …’ Lucy’s chest tightened as she tried to work out what to do. She wasn’t about to tell tales – ‘My mother threw Sam’s museum away!’ – and had no desire to establish blame. But what other explanation could she give? Perhaps she could delay Sam from going upstairs, just for long enough to give her the chance to have another hunt for his exhibits. Things would be a whole lot better if she could sneak at least some of them back onto the shelf.

  Miraculously, both Marnie and Sam took their grandma’s hands and started to lead her around the garden, showing her the purple and yellow pansies they had planted themselves, and the haphazard rockery they had built in the patch of border Lucy said they could have as their own. Noah and Amber tailed after their friends, all of them chatting in a happy group with Bramble moseying along beside them. Sam was now pointing out the bird box that he and Marnie had partially constructed with their dad, and Lucy had helped them to finish without knowing how he had intended it to be, or able to find any kind of plan or diagram. It was a little wonky, but it had held together and they had painted it pea green, fixed it to the oak tree and were immensely proud of it. ‘I wish Dad could see it,’ Marnie had said.

  ‘You seemed a bit stressed there, when we arrived,’ Carys murmured.

  Lucy grimaced and waited until Anna and the children had disappeared around the corner to where the redcurrants grew. ‘Mum’s been a bit overenthusiastic with her tidying up,’ she explained. ‘You know Sam’s museum in his room?’

  Carys nodded. ‘The V&A of Burley Bridge?’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s no more, I’m afraid. She decided it was a health hazard and threw it all out.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Carys looked aghast. ‘Where did she put it all?’

  ‘Down there, she thinks,’ she said, motioning towards the pile of clippings. ‘C’mon, I’ll have another quick look.’

  They both strode towards the pile of clippings. However, before they had even reached it Sam had reappeared and shouted, ‘I need to pee!’ and hurtled into the house.

  Lucy stared at her friend. ‘Oh, Christ.’

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ Carys whispered. ‘Tell him it was a mistake, and you can go out and find new things – even better things – and he’ll have an even more amazing museum.’

  Lucy wanted to believe it was possible, and that she’d lost perspective and was over-reacting wildly, as often seemed to be the case these days. After all, some of the exhibits had only been bits of bark and tufts of lichen. Even with the egg and the animal skull, they were hardly talking a crisis of international proportions.

  As Anna and Marnie strolled back into view, Lucy made her way towards the house. ‘I’m just going to check if Sam’s okay,’ she said quickly.

  ‘He’s gone to the loo,’ Marnie announced.

  ‘Yes, I know, love.’

  Marnie frowned at her, clearly confused as they only ever used the downstairs loo when they were playing outside, and of course Sam was capable of negotiating it without help. Perhaps he’d come straight back out, Lucy tried to reassure herself as she strode towards the front door, aware of her mother, Carys and all three children staring after her.

  But no. ‘Mum!’ Sam’s voice rang out from upstairs. ‘Muuum!’

  ‘What’s the matter, Sam?’ she called back, her heart thudding.

  ‘My museum’s gone!’ There was a scramble of footsteps on the landing, then he scampered downstairs and ran towards her, juddering to a halt on the front step.

  ‘Sam …’ She bobbed down and pulled him towards her. ‘It’s okay, love. There’s just been a slight … mistake, okay?’

  ‘What mistake?’ He pulled back and looked at her, his wavy brown hair mussed, his dark eyes wide and indignant.

  ‘Well … Grandma was tidying up your room and she didn’t realise, she didn’t mean to—’

  ‘What did she do?’ he barked at her.

  Lucy reddened, aware how unpleasant it was to be referred to as ‘she’, but now wasn’t the time to pick him up on his manners. She straightened up and looked around at her mother for help.

  ‘I, um … I threw your things away, love,’ Anna murmured, quickly striding towards them. ‘I’m sorry, Sam.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’ He gawped at her, tears forming instantly and rolling down his lightly freckled cheeks.

  ‘I didn’t know they were important. I just thought they were – I don’t know – just bits you’d picked up from outside.’

  ‘Why did you let her?’ Sam seemed to be redirecting his anger towards his mother now. Amber and Noah gawped at her, all agog.

  ‘Yeah, why did you, Mum?’ Marnie growled.

  ‘It’s no one’s fault,’ Carys said quickly. ‘These things happen.’

  ‘Grandma was only trying to help,’ Lucy tried to explain. ‘She was making your room nicer for you.’

  She reached for Sam’s hand but he whirled away, yelling, ‘I don’t want it nicer. I want Dad!’

  ‘So do I,’ Marnie cried, her face crumpling.

  ‘Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry,’ Anna started.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ Lucy muttered.

  ‘No, it’s not!’ Sam raged. ‘I want Dad and I want my things back. I want Grandma to go.’

  ‘Sam!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘I was only trying to help.’

  ‘Well, you weren’t helping,’ he yelled.

  ‘Sam, please stop this now,’ Lucy implored him, trying to pull him in for a hug, but he pushed her off and ran away from her, towards the bottom of the garden.

  ‘Come back, darling,’ Anna called out weakly.

  He stopped suddenly and swung round to face her. ‘Go away, Grandma,’ he cried, wiping his wet face with his hands. ‘I don’t want you here anymore. Jus
t go home.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lucy apologised for Sam, and hated herself for apologising. Shouldn’t she be on her son’s side? Years ago, she’d jumped to his defence when she found out that he’d been put in ‘the naughty corner’ for refusing to join in a game at his old nursery. The naughty corner! It had astounded her that such a thing still existed. But Anna wasn’t a nursery employee. She was his grandma, who loved him and regularly drove over to spend time with them all – and, yes, she had only wanted to do a kind thing by decluttering his room.

  They struggled through the early evening, and once the children were in bed, Lucy found her mother leafing pointedly through a gardening magazine at the kitchen table. ‘Mum, I’m sure Sam didn’t mean it,’ she ventured, offering her a cup of weak tea, two sugars, the way she liked it.

  ‘I think he’s a little too old for that sort of thing,’ she murmured.

  Too old for what? Lucy wanted to ask. Having a museum, or shouting at his grandma? He’d only just turned eight, for goodness’ sake! She prickled with shame at even entertaining such thoughts, and when her mobile trilled on the worktop she just gave it a cursory glance.

  An unknown number. Bound to be someone wanting to book, she decided. She dithered over whether to accept the call, wondering whether it would annoy her mother further and if she should just ignore it and give her her full attention – oh, sod it, she decided. Her mum had already turned back to the magazine and didn’t seem to want her attention right now.

  ‘Hello?’ she said sharply. Not the usual, Hello, Rosemary Cottage, Lucy here. Can I help you?

  ‘Hi, is that Lucy?’ It was a male voice.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Erm, you might not remember me. It’s Connell. Connell Davies—’

  She paused for a moment. ‘Connell from college?’ she asked, taking the phone out into the hallway away from her mum.

  ‘Yeah, that’s me!’ He sounded all buoyant, and she could tell he was smiling as if he expected her to be delighted to hear from him. She rubbed at her face distractedly and hoped that, whatever the reason for his call, he wasn’t expecting a lengthy reminiscing session right now. ‘I know it’s been a heck of a long time,’ he added.

  ‘Yes, it really has …’ He was coming into focus now, gradually sharpening in her mind: tall and lanky, in skinny jeans before they were properly fashionable. A mop of straight, floppy light brown hair that forever hung in his eyes, and a wide, eye-crinkling smile. They hadn’t been close friends, although they’d known plenty of people in common. Connell had run with a cooler crowd than hers – or she’d always had the impression that he liked to think he did.

  ‘So, how are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m good, thanks. All’s fine. How about you?’ Why on earth was he calling? It occurred to her that there might be some kind of college reunion in the offing, and her heart lurched with panic. While she could hang out happily with James, Carys and her other friends in the village, she’d rather hack off her own leg than be thrust together with a pile of people she hadn’t seen for twenty years.

  ‘All’s great,’ Connell said breezily. ‘Anyway, I’d better explain why I’m calling. I got your number from your B&B website.’ A brief pause. ‘Hope you don’t mind me calling so late …’

  It had just gone nine-thirty. At least his call had rescued her from the stony vibes that were still emanating from her mother in the kitchen. ‘It’s not late at all,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Great. Well, look, I’m back down in Nottingham these days—’ she remembered now that that was where he was from ‘—but I need to come up to your area for work. It’s not for ages yet. I’m thinking October, probably. But I heard through the grapevine that you and your husband set up a B&B, and from what Jennie said, it sounded like it might be in the right area …’

  ‘Jennie?’ Lucy asked, partly in order to shrug off his mention of her husband. Mostly, whenever that happened, it was easiest to just let it fly over her.

  ‘Yeah, I’m still in touch with a few of the old faces sporadically,’ he said. Jennie had been Lucy’s flatmate in the first two years of college, but they had lost touch during the interim years. ‘So I was intrigued and thought I’d try to look you up,’ Connell continued. ‘That’s how I found you.’

  ‘Wow,’ Lucy murmured, stepping out into the cool evening. ‘Well, of course I can put you up in October. I don’t have any bookings that far ahead.’

  ‘I’d love that,’ Connell said. ‘I thought, rather than staying at some miserable chain hotel on my own, it’d be a much nicer trip if I could find a cosy-looking B&B – and yours looks lovely. I found it on a travel blog. Something about the best B&Bs in the north? Was that it?’

  ‘Yes, we were lucky to be picked for that.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on the website! That picture of you, standing in front of your beautiful house …’ Ivan had taken that photograph when they’d first opened up for guests. ‘You looked so happy,’ he added.

  ‘I was. Am, I mean,’ she added quickly. ‘But I’m still amazed you knew it was me.’

  ‘Yeah, ’course I did. Obviously, you have your married name now, and your hair’s quite a lot longer. But I recognised you right away. You haven’t changed a bit.’

  She smiled, sensing the stress of the day ebbing away a little. She should probably be in the kitchen now, trying to placate her mother rather than chattering on her phone, but never mind. She would try to make it up to her tomorrow. Instead, she found herself wandering down to the shed, where she started to poke around in the hope of spotting some of Sam’s exhibits, but also knowing there was no point. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, ‘but the photo was taken from quite a distance.’

  ‘Well, you looked great,’ he said firmly. ‘Really happy. I was actually a little bit envious. I mean, I’m not sure it’d be for me, running a B&B, living way out in the wilds—’

  ‘It’s not quite the wilds,’ she cut in, ‘but yes, it is pretty rural. So, what’s bringing you up here, anyway?’

  ‘I’ve been asked to do a project with the village school,’ Connell replied. ‘Burley Bridge Primary, I mean. I assume that’s pretty near you.’

  ‘My two children go there,’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘It’s a ten-minute walk from my house. What kind of project is it?’

  ‘A sort of art project involving the kids,’ he explained. ‘I need to come over and meet with the head teacher and look at the building – the space we’ll be working with. We’re doing a stained-glass installation.’

  ‘That sounds brilliant!’

  ‘Yeah, it should be. Like I said, I don’t have a date yet but we’re looking at late October. I’ll let you know as soon as it’s definite. I was hoping I could book in for a couple of nights—’

  ‘Great,’ Lucy said, figuring now that she would tell him about Ivan when he came, but not now; it wasn’t the kind of news she wanted to land on him out of the blue. ‘But it wouldn’t be on a B&B basis,’ she added. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t dream of charging you.’

  ‘Nope, I’d only stay as a proper paying guest,’ Connell said firmly. ‘It’s your business, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, yes …’

  ‘Please – it’s only fair. I’ll get in touch nearer the time when I know the exact dates, okay?’

  ‘Great,’ she said, feeling happier now as they finished the call. It would be fun to see him, she decided as she made her way back inside to face her mother, and get through the rest of the evening trying to make chit-chat and being rebuffed. In fact, it would be easier than having a regular guest, with all the small talk that involved. Although she had been adept at chatting with strangers when Ivan had still been alive, since the accident it was the one aspect she still found tricky. No one would guess – at least she hoped they wouldn’t – but sometimes, the effort of being constantly cheery could sometimes feel a little like wearing another woman’s lipstick: slightly wrong, as if it didn’t quite suit her. But with Connell, they
had shared history.

  Like her, he had grown up in a bleary suburb and yearned to escape and find out what the wider world had to offer. He’d studied product design, while she had been on a fashion-buying course. Lucy remembered now that he’d gone from a ramshackle flat-share, its red kitchen walls covered in pages ripped from art magazines and something terrible festering in a forgotten saucepan, to relative domesticity with Zelda, a fabulously glamorous Italian girl.

  Connell and Zelda had hosted a dinner party once – the first Lucy had ever been invited to. It seemed terribly ambitious with around a dozen guests, numerous courses and proper cloth napkins, which Lucy had never encountered outside of special occasions at her parents’ house (her mother kept them neatly ironed in a drawer). Zelda had whisked a seemingly endless succession of sensational dishes from their tiny Baby Belling oven.

  ‘Is that what being a grown-up is like?’ Lucy’s flatmate Jennie had laughed as the two of them had tottered home tipsily together. ‘We don’t even have an oven glove!’

  Soon after that, their paths had diverged. Lucy heard that Connell had sailed straight into some brilliant design job down south, while she had floundered for some years in mundane admin roles around Manchester before landing a job as a junior buyer at Claudine. She had no idea whether Connell and Zelda had stayed together. Perhaps they had produced a host of gorgeous children by now?

  Intrigued, she was keen to find out more when they had the chance to catch up properly. But all thoughts of his October visit disappeared as she found her mother pacing the kitchen, her own mobile clamped to her ear. ‘Get her to the vet, Paddy,’ she commanded without making eye contact with Lucy. There was more pacing, then: ‘Yes, I know she doesn’t like him. She’ll have to be muzzled. What d’you expect? Last time you took her, he squeezed her anal gland.’